


Familiar As Your Fingertips

by inelegantly (Lir)



Series: SWAG 2016 Fills [3]
Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Nebulous Timeline, Riding, Sexual Content, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/pseuds/inelegantly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mihashi really likes the look of Abe's hands, fingernails painted white to more visibly convey their baseball signs. He likes watching them press into Abe, likes being able to touch Abe's body himself, likes the thing that they've built between them, careful and precarious and undeniably safe. Abe works with him, and Mihashi trusts him beyond measure of words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mihashi

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [2016 Sports Anime Winter Games](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/9309.html), originally as three separate fills for three separate prompts. I'm posting these ficlets together because taken that way they do have a consistent chronology, and each one builds into the ficlet that follows. Also, Abe gets fingered a lot, and that's a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt that started this thing off was: "Mihashi fingerfucking Abe, focusing on how much Mihashi is getting off on seeing Abe get off. Bonus points if Abe is a mess under Mihashi's careful touch."

-

"Ah," Abe breathes out, so that Mihashi's knuckles pull back from within his body. 

Mihashi's fingers linger so they're barely entering him, indecisive, poised to press back in. For a moment Mihashi's face is vivid with concern, but then Abe pushes down on his hand, and Mihashi's smile spreads across his face like the dawning of a sun. 

"T-Takaya," Mihashi murmurs. "I thought I'd hurt you." 

Abe shakes his head, a quick little jerk, something Mihashi will feel more than see. Not while his gaze is riveted between Abe's legs, watching in caught fascination as his fingers vanish from his sight, as Abe's body pulls them in over and over. His hand twists and another gasp catches in Abe's throat, but this time Mihashi can work out that it's not a noise of pain.

"You make a lot of sounds, A-Abe-kun — I mean — Takaya." 

He murmurs the name softly, fondly, and Abe exhales another one of those _noises_ Mihashi has noticed he can't help but keep making. It earns him a laugh, a little chuckle, and the reward of Mihashi's fingers pressing in again, smooth and slow. That's the way Mihashi likes to do things — carefully, unhurriedly, with lots of time to observe and correct lest he make a mistake. He takes his time working his fingers in and out of Abe, pausing with every shudder, every groan, every little gasp Abe makes. 

It would be maddening, if not for the small sounds Mihashi makes in return, wondering little murmurs every time Abe clenches down, or moans, or strains against the bed. His legs are shaking so hard with his feet planted against the mattress; it should be maddening, but instead it's just shattering him apart as he shudders to pieces beneath Mihashi's familiar hands and coaxing fingers.

"Do you like that, Takaya?" 

Mihashi's eyes are bright, when Abe tries to meet them. His voice sticks in his throat but Mihashi doesn't seem to need it, manages to deduce all the answer he needs from the exultant contortion of Abe's face. And it shouldn't be so difficult to divine this answer — Abe's cock is straining up from his stomach, smearing a trail of precome across his belly and bouncing every time Abe's hips give a minute, involuntary jerk. 

Mihashi reaches up to touch it, and though his fingertips are ghosting-light, Abe strangles a moan in his throat at the contact. When Mihashi does it _again_ Abe realizes through the haze that's overtaken his brain that Mihashi — Mihashi _likes_ it.

Likes — this, the way Abe reacts to his touch, to his voice, to the way he lets himself be handled.

When it's Mihashi, Abe will give over all of that, is thrilled to watch Mihashi touch his body with ever-increasing confidence, with a deftness that alights his skin with warmth from even the most innocent of touches. The way Mihashi is touching him now, it's a lot less innocent. 

"Keep going," Abe manages, forcing out the encouragement as his toes curl and his eyes roll back, slide closed. He pushes down on Mihashi's hand, and somehow Mihashi knows that he doesn't mean _touch my cock._

His motions aren't any faster, or any rougher, but Mihashi is _thorough_ in a way that Abe craves. His wrist twists with perfect control and it feels as if his fingertips have set alight every nerve inside of Abe, have closed upon the very core of him and coaxed from it every shivering, shuddering reaction Mihashi could have asked for. Abe will give Mihashi all of them. 

It's worth giving over those things, for the delighted little gasp Mihashi makes when all his patience pays off in easing Abe to orgasm, the sound of Mihashi's pleasure an equal reward — compliment — to Abe's own wash of satisfaction. 

-

-


	2. Abe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt that's responsible for this one was: "abe paints his nails with white nail polish to make them more visible when he's giving signs. mihashi is turned on by them. either abe fingering mihashi or fingering himself while mihashi watches."

-

Mihashi's hands are hot when they wrap around Abe's, holding his palm from both sides so that his fingertips point up at the ceiling. For a moment he spreads his fingers, muscles going slack underneath Mihashi's familiar touch. In that moment alone, they form the inverse of one of their battery's usual pitching signs. 

"I like them," Mihashi says softly, running the pad of his thumb over Abe's forefinger nail. 

The white of the polish is briefly obscured by Mihashi's hand, before he slides his fingers away again and the eye-catching paint once again shines out beneath the bedroom lights. Mihashi smiles, and something within Abe's chest turns over, an organic engine weakly trying to start. 

"They're just for games," Abe says, gruffly. "It's not anything special." 

"But it's just..." Mihashi starts, stumbling, groping for words. "It's just... It is special, you know? Like they're... Something for only me to see." 

Mihashi's cheeks heat up underneath Abe's steady stare, blushing brightly enough that he finally squeaks and looks away. Before he can drop Abe's hand, Abe catches one of his wrists, and Mihashi peeks back at Abe with a sheepish expression on his face. 

"Something only for..." Abe echoes, before _he's_ abruptly the one embarrassed. "You want me to...?" 

Mihashi nods, mouth pressed shut but head bobbing rapidly, moving so quickly on his neck that the motion makes _Abe_ dizzy. He reaches out, clasps Mihashi by both sides of his cheeks, and holds him steady until Mihashi again looks him in the face. Mihashi is glowing, alight with excitement; Abe is the one who can feel his cheeks burn. 

"Okay," he says, like he's talking himself into it, making his voice steady for his _own_ benefit just as much as Mihashi's. "Like that other time, right?" 

Mihashi nods again, a shorter motion which is no less vigorous. In his excitement he's already crowding Abe back toward the bed. Abe sidesteps him, taking a moment to slide off his shirt, to pop the button on his pants and shove those down as well. Mihashi's fingers dart to his waistband, tucking into the elastic of Abe's underwear and helpfully pulling them down. 

Abe forgets, sometimes, just how eager Mihashi can get. 

He sits back on the bed, reaching into the bedside table for the lube. Mihashi crowds up in front of him, still in his underwear, having made his own attempt at undressing only to get distracted halfway through. Abe laughs to realize it, a sound that shakes beneath the steadiness of Mihashi's stare. Despite how long Abe has had to get used to it, something about the way Mihashi will stop and simply _watch_ him has never ceased to put him off-balance. 

He has to take a deep breath to steady himself, before spreading his thighs apart in a catcher's crouch. He isn't hard just yet, but the focus of Mihashi's stare and the anticipation of touching himself is enough to begin to get him there. The lube is cool drizzled over his fingers, and once that's accomplished, he reaches behind himself to grasp the headboard for leverage even as he twists his other arm back along his spine, tilting his fingers up to curl between his legs.

Mihashi makes an interested little gasp, leaning closer between Abe's knees so that Abe's cock pulses in response to the attention.

He tries not to think about it. If he pays too much attention to Mihashi's fascinated look, to the way Mihashi's face is so close to his groin he can almost feel Mihashi's breath against his balls, he won't have the composure to do what he's said. Instead, Abe focuses on a point just past Mihashi and slides the first of his fingers slowly, slowly, into himself.

He's positioned himself this way on purpose, so that Mihashi can see the white of the paint before Abe's fingertips push into his body. He's slow at first, easing himself open, relaxing into a pressure that's more familiar than it is daunting. He slides his hand back and with the next pass, scoots a second finger in against the first. That's better, more of a stretch, enough to start giving him that feeling of fullness that has his dick perking with proper interest. He breathes out, a ragged sound roughened by concentration and arousal, and makes the mistake of glancing up into Mihashi's face. 

The raptness of his boyfriend's expression momentarily takes Abe's breath away.

"You're... Good at that," Mihashi mumbles, when he realizes that now Abe is staring at _him._

Abe laughs, flattered and embarrassed, the motions of his fingers stuttering to a stop. He composes himself, resuming the steady rocking into himself as quickly as he's able, lest he ruin the show. 

"I guess I practice," he says. 

He can hear the tightness of his own voice, a manifestation of the strain that's building in his thighs, in his arms. The position is hard to hold and his body is shaking, both with the effort of the performance and with the rising tide of his arousal. He pulls his fingers back, allows himself a breath, and presses three in instead, fingertips slid together into a casual wedge. 

He gasps, even though he should be expecting it, and Mihashi reaches out to grab his wrist. 

"I'm alri—" Abe starts to say, before catching sight of the look on Mihashi's face. 

"Let me do it," Mihashi says, insistent. He tugs gently on Abe's wrist; Abe is straining too much already to stop his fingers from sliding out. "I want to do it." 

"That's..." Abe trails off, remembering that Mihashi was the one who wanted to watch him fuck himself on his fingers in the first place. "...Go ahead." 

The way Mihashi's eyes light up before he snatches the lube up from the bed is almost better than orgasm.

-

-


	3. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this one was: "Abe is a natural at riding dick - takes the lead, takes the pitches." But really it's all just an excuse to write continuous abemiha porn I wanted to see. I really love fingering.

-

"Takaya," Mihashi murmurs, eyes wide and gaze riveted on Abe's cock. 

He's leaning over Mihashi, knees spread around Mihashi's hips and one hand reached behind himself to spread his ass open with his fingers. He rocks back on his hand, letting his slippery fingers slide into and out of himself just so Mihashi can see it. His cheeks are red, and at least some of that is embarrassment — most of it is arousal.

He knows how much Mihashi likes to watch him. 

The weight of Mihashi's stare makes Abe burn hot all the way down the back of his neck, his flush spreading from his cheeks to his shoulders to down his chest. He's warm all over, a pleasant counterpoint to the stretch of his fingers easing him to readiness. He knows that Mihashi likes this, likes the simplicity of _watching,_ but Abe likes things a lot more hands on.

"Are you ready?" he asks Mihashi, glancing down at the line of Mihashi's cock curving up against his stomach. Mihashi might be hard, but he's making no effort to touch himself; all of his attention is on Abe.

"Are _you_ ready?" Mihashi shoots back, his thin stubborn streak always choosing to rear its head at the worst possible time. "It hurt you, the first time." 

Abe laughs, a sound that's more a shuddery exhale than a demonstration of mirth. There's no reason for Mihashi to handle _him_ with kid gloves; the degree to which its a reversal of reality is so laughable as to be absurd. Abe lets his fingers slide free of himself, and leans down to kiss Mihashi decisively on the mouth. 

"Just let me handle it," he says.

Mihashi hums to himself, shifting his hips a little beneath Abe and not arguing any further than that. He agrees as easily to this as he might on the field, trusting Abe to call the pitches because the last thing Abe wants is to steer Mihashi wrong. Abe scoops up the condom he'd left beside them on the mattress and tears it open before slowly rolling it down Mihashi's cock. 

Mihashi arches into his hand, and Abe realizes all at once that Mihashi must be more worked up than he seems. He scoots forward over Mihashi's hips, uses a hand around Mihashi's cock to facilitate his sinking slowly onto it, all the way down until their bodies connect.

He gasps, when they do, and Mihashi gasps with him. 

For a moment they both laugh, awkward and breathless, and Mihashi smiles up at him with his eyes gone dark from pupils blown wide. Then Abe shifts his hips, letting his thighs do the work as he rocks against Mihashi's lap, one hand braced against Mihashi's shoulder for balance. Mihashi wheezes in through his teeth, a low whine that scales higher as Abe continues to move, and Abe leans down to kiss him quiet.

"Good?" he asks, from so close his lips brush against Mihashi's lips. 

"You're always good," Mihashi murmurs back, so that the heat down Abe's neck flares hotter once again. 

He rocks down harder, starts moving his hips faster. Mihashi compliments him and it feels like a challenge, an invitation for him to push them farther than they've thought to go before. His breath comes ragged between his teeth, his jaw set in concentration, his thighs protesting the relentlessness of his pace even with all the practice they've gotten squatting over the plate. 

His cock aches, straining up against his stomach, but he doesn't have a hand free to touch it. He doesn't think he would, even if he could manage that miracle of coordination. He looks down into Mihashi's pink, panting face, and he _knows_ its his own composure that will break first. 

Mihashi's hands rise to his hips, gripping not so much out of an intention to steer but simply for something to hold onto. He has strong, dexterous fingers, ones Abe has watched turning a baseball over and over in his hand more times than he can count. Mihashi holds him near-tight enough to bruise, and with his next stroke down, Abe is coming hot between their bellies.

" _Takaya_ ," Mihashi sighs, but there's a shake in his voice, a tension still strung through his body. 

"Don't worry," Abe tells him, the high from his orgasm coursing hot through his veins even as his limbs begin to insist on melting to jelly. "I've got you." 

He won't let Mihashi down, not in this, not in baseball. His thighs protest and his hips strain but his body keeps rocking, a little more slowly now, forward and back in Mihashi's lap. 

"Takaya, Takaya," Mihashi murmurs again, that soft, reverent way he gets when he can't even hear what he's saying. Abe knows he's close. Abe knows when he comes, because Mihashi squeezes his hips tight, and Abe stops altogether. 

"Good?" Abe asks again, through his own panting, through the sweat he feels sliding down his back and the heat warming him over his entire body. "Was it... Was that good." 

"You're always good," Mihashi tells him again, so fervently that Abe can't even protest the repetition. 

He only laughs, and slides gingerly up, and leans down to kiss Mihashi even as he slowly stretches his body out to lie beside Mihashi on the bed. He's tired enough that the kiss is slow, gentle, more tender than he usually knows how to be without putting so much conscious thought into it. Mihashi hums contently against his mouth, and Abe feels his chest swell tight and warm. 

"You're good, too," he murmurs then, gruff against Mihashi's mouth. "You're everything that I ask for."

-

-


End file.
